There’s this girl, you see, born on the Fourth of July. She erupted on the scene at a military base and grew to love all things military precision-like—minimalistic living and spartan saving with exacting expectations of herself—yet exploding with all the vibrant color of a rainbow. She’s an out of the box thinker—MacGyver’s met his match in her.
This girl, you see, is a firecracker, whip smart, and loud about things that matter like injustice, inequality, and freedom for all. She’s the yang to my yin, the bang for my buck, my soul sister, twin flame, and best friend. Happy Birthday, Tracy Jo! 🥰🎉🎊 💥
4th of July
It is hard to say when or where Although why is not quite as hard (synchronous orbits)to declare that mysterious tidal heat where in wonder science we meet. Life whisks away what’s not needed, brings the ebb and flow, completed we move while the stars stand their guard.
Every year I love to lie beneath the stars in the summer. Especially when we are camping or up north at my folks’ cottage, I love to look up in wonder.
One of the highlights of visiting The Badlands was the Night Sky Program they offered. There in this amazing setting, a Park Ranger pointed out all the different stars, planets, and satellites blinking down at us.
We saw Jupiter and Mars and Saturn through high powered telescopes. We bonded with total strangers in the inky blackness, sharing stories of all the magic that happened under stars in our own lives.
I tried to capture a bit of the wonder and magic of falling stars in this poem.
balls of fire, dancing like fireflies suspended on string. oh how they careened down with a nod and a wink.
how many wishes were granted that night? how many starstruck lovers closed their eyes and hoped?
sometimes it is hard to imagine that the death of a single star lingers long into the future, touching all who see it.
lying beneath the fireworks, wishing and hoping for more, praying not to be burned by the smoldering embers.
The prompt for today was to write an “occasional” poem—a poem suited to, or written for, a particular occasion.
So I decided to write about a few memorable occasions. Welcome a few of my favorite memories.
Magic of Moments
I will never forget the magic of his arrival, relating not so much to the nature of life, but to the heart of love itself— a powerful catapult a dance of irrevocable joy, an electrifying connection, an explosion of love.
Like the day I saw her come my way, unfettered and underestimated, free wheeling and free thinking, unbound by convention without an ounce of pretension.
Like the moment when a thousand meteors exploded in the august sky, when wispy green fairies twirled their skirts behind the northern lights.
Like when the hawk spread his wings above our heads, leading the way into the flaming birch forest.
How can anyone not believe in magic— the humdrum, mundane everyday magic of life?
—- A Draft Poem by Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan
Let me know your favorite moments in the comments below.
The prompt today was to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. Instead of writing from the point of view of Cinderella, I could write from the point of view of the mouse who got turned into a coachman. Instead of writing from the point of view of Orpheus or Eurydice, I could write from the point of view of one of the shades in Hades who watched Eurydice leave and then come back.
I chose to write from the perspective of a star at creation…
a star is born
in the beginning lived only chaos, tumbling
over and through the great void of darkness falling
toward divine disorder. a call rang out awakening
the light; a call of hope and grace slowly sliding-
each into her place. sky beings gathered;
dust bunnies, hushed in anticipation, beginning
the great dance of joy. i saw the first spark glowing,
a tiny ember of ordered cosmos swirling
headlong to defeat the chaos.
what could I do but join in the dance of the sky gods?
boldly i twirled toward chaos, anarchy scattering.
i wondered at the great mysterious changing
of the universe.
i wondered at the divine disorder coursing
headlong through night skies.
i wondered at the sky ablaze with sparks changing
embers to starlight.
i wondered at the power of this grace sculpting
cosmos from chaos.
Today’s prompt was the challenge to write a seven-line poem called a san san, which means “three three” in Chinese (It’s also a term of art in the game Go). The san san has some things in common with the tritina, including repetition and rhyme. In particular, the san san repeats, three times, each of three terms or images. The seven lines rhyme in the pattern a-b-c-a-b-d-c-d. I found the form and requisites for the san san demanding and difficult. I feel like I’m ready for a rest after this one…. the enslavement of stars
a wild mess of stars haphazard
dancing with reckless abandon.
immense and full and rainbow-hued,
the dancing of the stars gathered
together one reckless stand in–
a love, wild and messy and free.
dancing stars created the mood
for wild, reckless reality.